


in one you're fulfilled at the end of the day

by robokittens



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, Sometimes I Think You Like Getting Punched, contains zero percent lamps by volume, surprisingly kinky steve rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-11
Updated: 2014-06-11
Packaged: 2018-02-04 07:23:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1770565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robokittens/pseuds/robokittens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I don't like seeing you hurt," Bucky says. "I don't wanna hurt you. Not even by acciden—"</p><p>"Maybe that's what I want," Steve cuts in. "Did you think about that? Maybe I don't want you to be careful."</p>
            </blockquote>





	in one you're fulfilled at the end of the day

Steve hisses through his teeth when the heel of Bucky's hand hits a soft spot on his right shoulder, the edge of a bruise just old enough that he knows it's turning a sickly yellow under his shirt. He tries to catch the flinch but he can tell Bucky feels it in how he pulls away just slightly. 

"Steve," Bucky says, just that, the concern in his voice evident even through the wrecked way it gets after they've kissed too long. He runs his hands down Steve's sides, splays them all across his hipbones for a moment before tugging on the hem of Steve's shirt. "Lemme see," he says, grinning. "What, you don't want me taking your shirt off all of a sudden?"

Steve laughs a little, and sits up just enough to pull his own damn shirt off. If he's lucky, the dim light of the apartment and the shadows Bucky casts leaning over him will mostly obscure the mottled mess that's his shoulder and upper chest, but he can tell from the way Bucky stiffens over him that that's not the case.

Bucky sighs. "What did you do to yourself _this_ time?"

Any protest Steve is going to make dies in his throat as Bucky decides he's done scolding and leans down to press kisses along the outside edge of the bruise, feather-light. There's just a hint of teeth, sharp across his shoulder, and Steve shudders and arches up into it.

He can feel Bucky smiling against his neck.

"Harder," he manages, and spares a moment to be grateful for button-front shirts as Bucky's teeth scrape against his collarbone. Bucky pulls back long enough to strip them both the rest of the way, quickly and efficiently, before he's back to bracing himself over Steve. 

Steve wraps his hand around Bucky's neck and pulls him the rest of the way down. Their kisses are hot and opened mouthed, no pretense at finesse when their dicks are slotted up neatly against each other, the friction barely lessened by the moist heat of their bodies pressed together. The weight of Bucky's body atop his is hardly new, or his hands in Steve's hair, but it's still so distracting that it takes Steve a while to realize that Bucky is talking.

" — good to you," he's saying, voice as uneven as the movement of his hips, tongue flicking out to moisten his lips and the skin of Steve's neck. "Know you don't need it but. Gonna keep you safe. Never gonna hurt you — wouldn't let anyone —" 

Steve stops moving.

"Bucky," he says. And then sharper: " _Buck_."

Bucky stops moving, except to pull one hand out of Steve's hair and press it against the bed to leverage himself up. His own hair is mussed, his eyes already wild; for all that Steve's the one who gets them into trouble, Bucky never has had any self control.

"I'm not _fragile_ ," he says, and the moment it's out of his mouth he knows it came out angrier than he meant it to. He takes a deep breath, brings his tone back down to normal. "I'm not — I'm not weak, Buck, I can take everything you can dish out and probably more besides."

Bucky's lips quirk for just a moment, as much of a smirk as it can be with worry still painted all over his face. "I know you can. It's just — it's on me. I don't like seeing you hurt; I don't wanna hurt you. Not even by acciden—"

"Maybe that's what I want," Steve cuts in. He keeps his voice as calm as he can manage, just this shy of conversational. "Did you think about that? Maybe I don't want you to be careful."

He takes a deep breath, and makes himself meet Bucky's eyes. If he says this, there's no going back from it. "Maybe I want you to — to hold me down. To take me hard. Bruise up my wrists, chest, my — my throat. You could do that, couldn't you Buck? Make it hard for me to breathe?"

"Ain't hard to do that," Bucky mutters, but there's no disguising the interest in his face, or the way his hand tightens in Steve's hair. From what Steve can feel still pressed against his hipbone, he hasn't lost interest anywhere else either.

"Push me down and pin me by the throat. You could open me up if you want — might be easier if you do that first, push me over into the mattress and open me right up. Or you could just go for it. I'd let you, Buck, I trust you."

Bucky inhales sharply, presses his head down to kiss Steve's throat. "What if I hurt you?"

"You're not — you're not _listening_. I want you to."

"And what if you _stop_ breathing?" Bucky's own breathing has gone heavy against Steve's neck, his arms trembling. 

"Keep going."

Bucky's head jerks up sharply, and his hips, which had been pressing erratically down into Steve's, stutter to a stop. "What."

"Keep going," Steve says again. It's been a fight to keep his voice half as even as it is, but the look on Bucky's face is almost terrified, and beyond that probably as aroused as Steve's ever seen it. He takes a deep breath, just to prove he can, and keeps going. "If I stop breathing. When have you ever known me to pass out and not come back? If you want to check and make sure I'm not dead," he laughs a little, but keeps going just as calmly. "I'd respect that. But if I'm gonna come to — and I am — I want it to be with you inside me. 

"You always say you like me because I put up a fight, but I bet you'd like the opposite just as much. Imagine it, Buck. Imagine I'm wild beneath you, and then suddenly I'm slack, pliable, open for you. You can just keep going. You know I want it — I'm telling you now. I've woken up in a handful of bad situations, and I can't imagine a better one than coming to with you still fucking me. Or you sacked out next to me, still holding onto me, and me filled with your seed."

"Jesus _Christ_ , Steve," Bucky says. It's amazing how upset he can sound when he's coming, untouched, in long streaks up Steve's chest. 

Steve doesn't say anything, just holds the eye contact until Bucky breaks, finally collapses down onto Steve. The hand in Steve's hair clenches and then loosens, and curls in until Bucky's resting as much on top of Steve as he can manage; probably in his own come, Steve figures, but he's not going to point it out now. His own dick is still hard, trapped under Bucky's thigh, and it's a little hard to breathe with Bucky dead weight on him like this. He's not complaining. It feels good.

**Author's Note:**

> it took me literally twice as long to pick a title for this as it took me to write it, but in the end how could i resist depeche mode. (thx to everyone who tried to help me out with that one, especially [ang](http://archiveofourown.org/users/AngGriffen/).)
> 
> i'm bad at porn plz be nice.


End file.
